


Trouble Finds Me

by kelleigh (girlfromcarolina)



Series: SPN Masquerade Fills [23]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Bandits & Outlaws, Blow Jobs, Gun Violence, Gunslingers, M/M, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Saloons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:47:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28516653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlfromcarolina/pseuds/kelleigh
Summary: Jensen looks over at the tall stranger bellied up to his bar. The man had walked in an hour ago, black duster trailing like a stormcloud, spurs clanking across the freshly swept floors, and ordered a shot of rye whiskey. Jensen took his coins, poured the shot, and left the bottle within easy reach. He tended to get a read on folks—intuition like that comes in handy for his line of work—and he figured the stranger wouldn’t stop at a single drink.
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Series: SPN Masquerade Fills [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/329416
Comments: 9
Kudos: 74





	Trouble Finds Me

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Fall 2020 round of SPN Masquerade for the prompt: _Jared is an outlaw. Jensen owns the finest watering hole in town. When Jared stumbles in battered after a fight, Jensen patches him up._
> 
> Inspired by the first few episodes of the old TV show _The Magnificent Seven_ :)

“Town always this lively?”

Jensen looks over at the tall stranger bellied up to his bar. The man had walked in an hour ago, black duster trailing like a stormcloud, spurs clanking across the freshly swept floors, and ordered a shot of rye whiskey. Jensen took his coins, poured the shot, and left the bottle within easy reach. He tended to get a read on folks—intuition like that comes in handy for his line of work—and he figured the stranger wouldn’t stop at a single drink.

Now, two shots later, his rough voice draws Jensen out of his musings. Outside, they can hear the sharp cracks of gunfire (not unusual in this part of the territory) and the whooping and hollering of half a dozen men.

“Trailhands,” Jensen explains, turning back to the stranger. At some point, he must have tipped up his hat, giving Jensen a clear view of hazel eyes and ruddy skin. “I’m guessing it’s payday, so the lot of ‘em will be in town looking to spend the extra on booze and entertainment.”

“Any of ‘em likely to come in here?” the stranger asks, glancing around the bar. Besides the two of them, there are only a handful of others this early in the afternoon, and most of them are gathered around the poker table trying to win money off Ezra. You’d sooner see a rooster lay an egg than catch Ezra parting with his money.

Jensen shakes his head. “Ol’ Duke is friends with the local ranchers. I’m sure they’ll head to his place first. Drinks are cheaper.”

“Yeah?” The man leans into the bar and fixes Jensen with a stare that passes through him like hot lead. “You saying I should head over there?”

“Sure, if you like watered-down whiskey and sour beer.” Jensen winks. “Mine may cost a penny or two more, but I’ll never cheat you.”

The stranger raises his glass to that before bringing it to his wide mouth and downing it slowly. When he licks his lips to catch a stray drop, there’s an answering burn in Jensen’s stomach.

“Looks like I’ll be sticking to this watering hole then.”

“Thought you were just passing through?” Jensen’s sure he picked up on that wandering spirit as the stranger whiled away the afternoon.

“Got half a mind to stick around for a bit.”

“See what kind of trouble you can get into?” Jensen asks with a grin on his face. Not an expression he’s usually wearing in his own saloon. The clientele can be a bit on the rough side in these parts.

“Trouble usually finds me.” He motions for another shot and Jensen reaches for the bottle. 

Everything about this man screams _dangerous loner_ —from his black attire to the fit of his gun belt—yet curiosity gets the better of Jensen. “You got a name, stranger?”

“Jared. You can call me Jared.”

“Jensen,” he introduces himself before pouring his own shot and raising it. “Welcome to town, Jared.”

_________

  
True to his word, Jared sticks around. He gets himself a room over at Maddie’s boarding house and visits Jensen’s saloon nearly every day. With sprawling cattle ranches on both sides of town and plenty of wagon trains passing through, there’s no shortage of work for a hired gun, so Jared always has a few extra coins for whiskey.

“What’s your pleasure tonight?” Jensen asks as Jared steps up to the bar on a cool evening. It’s been over a week since he came to town, and while Jensen still doesn’t know much about Jared, he’s fine company. Dry humor, sharp wit, and a body that’s all lean angles and ropey muscle. “A game of cards? A roll in the hay?”

Jared grins, teeth set along the edge of his sharp smile. “How about a stiff drink?”

If there’s a flush on Jensen’s cheeks, it’s from slinging drinks for hours and not the rough suggestion in Jared’s voice. This isn’t the first time he’s heard something beyond casual interest in the gunslinger’s voice, but with the size of tonight’s crowd and the potential for trouble, Jensen can’t do more than smirk and produce a bottle of whiskey he ordered special for his newest customer.

“The stiffer the better,” Jensen says, pouring Jared’s drink. “Try this on for size.”

Jared lifts the glass slowly, eyes locked with Jensen’s, and tilts it back, taking half in one swallow. “Goes down smooth, just the way I like it.”

As much as he’d like to stand there and watch Jared appreciate his finest whiskey, there are other patrons demanding Jensen’s attention. The crowd is loud and lively tonight, two poker games running in the back and Saul on the piano playing a tune. Jensen usually feels safe enough with his mare’s leg hooked under the bar in easy reach, but with Jared looming quietly at the end of the bar, eyes always moving and a pair of Colts on his hips doing the talking for him, there’s nothing that can rile Jensen tonight.

Almost nothing.

“More whiskey for me and my men!” The shout grates on Jensen’s nerves, and he frowns when he turns to see Carter Dunn and his fellow ranch hands waiting for service.

“Casey’ll be right over if you gentlemen want to wait at your table,” Jensen says, nodding towards one of his two employees winding their way through the crowd.

“Why should we wait when you can take care of us?” Carter’s smile is lopsided, his teeth yellowed. He smells like cheap cheroots and his skin is weathered like the bark of a tree. He’s been hassling Jensen for months, but his money is good and Jensen can’t really afford to piss him off.

“Fine. A bottle this time?” Jensen sets a bottle of rye on the bar and takes the money Carter lays down. He’s not fast enough; the man’s hand shoots out and covers his.

“Been itchin’ for some gentle company. Nights get lonely out at the ranch.”

“You’ll have to take your money to Miss Sandy’s for that,” Jensen points out. “No whores here.”

Carter leans over, his voice as coarse as sandpaper. “You’ve got some pretty lips, boy…” he whispers. The men behind him are too busy distributing the whiskey to pay attention to what their boss is saying. “I’m guessin’ you’d feel just like a woman in the dark.”

Jensen’s stomach rolls. It’s not the first time Carter has pushed his luck, but the combination of the whiskey on his breath and the lewdness coming out of his mouth makes Jensen want to knock a few of his teeth loose.

“Take your drinks and go on back to your friends,” Jensen says flatly. “Let me get back to work.”

Carter isn’t deterred. “Come on, Jenny. I bet you’d like it. You’d moan all pretty with my co—”

Whatever filth Carter was about to say is cut off by the appearance of Jared at his elbow.

“Move along like the man asked.” The barrel of Jared’s Colt is pressed against Carter’s side.

“Stay outta this, cowboy,” Carter spits. “Ain’t your business.”

Jared laughs, and Jensen hides his smile with the back of his hand because he knows what the next words out of Jared’s mouth will be.

“Did you just call me a cowboy?”

“I…” Carter must sense that he’s made a mistake. “I only—”

“Did he call me a cowboy, Jensen?”

“At least once,” he replies, picking up a glass and polishing it like nothing is out of the ordinary.

“Now look here,” Carter sputters. He doesn’t get farther than that as Jared cocks his gun.

“No, you _look here_ ,” Jared hisses. “You’re gonna head back to your table, finish your drinks, and leave before the hour’s up. And you’re not gonna come back to this saloon until you’ve thought about how you’d look with a fresh hole in your shoulder.”

Jensen shivers. The tone of Jared’s voice and the darkness in his eyes are a potent combination.

Unwilling to push his luck, Carter glares at Jared and Jensen before slinking back to his friends. Jensen lets out a long exhale before pouring two shots—one for Jared and one for himself. “On the house,” he says, pushing it across the bar and into Jared’s hand. “You really do have a knack for finding trouble.”

“Trouble was yours,” Jared points out, holstering his gun. “I was tryin’ to have a nice night.”

It’s Jensen’s turn to laugh as he clinks their glasses together. “To trouble,” he toasts.

“The good kind,” is Jared’s response.

_________

  
Discovering that Jared is a wanted man is less of a surprise than it ought to be. On any given night in Jensen’s saloon, you could toss a rock and hit an outlaw. There’s something different about Jared, though, a weight he carries with him. His demeanor speaks of a man who’s looking for a way to live with his own past. Jensen imagines that it’s a lonely way to live.

Part of Jared’s story came from a trusted source: the man himself. Over the course of several weeks, Jared tells Jensen how he started making his way west after taking revenge on the man who killed his brother and sister—a man who turned out to be the son of a politician back home—and it wasn’t long before the law was hot on Jared’s heels. The law only reaches so far, however, and out here, Jared’s been wandering from town to town, picking up work but never putting down roots.

The rest comes from town gossip. Jensen is picking up sandwiches from the Travis’ restaurant when he hears Mary telling her husband about the man in black who’d come in the night before.

“We don’t need his kind here!” she insists, ignoring Jensen as he counts out coins in his palm. 

“And what kind is that?” her husband asks.

“The _dangerous_ kind!”

Mr. Travis chuckles. “Plenty of dangerous folks out here, Mary. Sometimes you need men like that to keep everyone else in line.”

What Jensen overhears the next day in the bathhouse between Sandy and one of her girls is slightly more flattering.

“That gunslinger staying over at Miss Maddie’s?” Sandy’s voice is slightly breathless. “I wouldn’t mind taking him for a ride. I wouldn’t even charge him!” The two women laugh softly and Jensen makes sure he’s hidden behind his curtain. Sandy might have no shame but Jensen prefers to keep his baths private. 

“He came by the other night—a few of the girls nearly swooned,” Sandy is saying. “I told him who was available in case he was lookin’ for a good time, but he didn’t seem all that interested.”

“He’s probably been on the trail too long,” the other girl remarks. “Those wild and wooly types need to warm up to civilized life. I just hope I’m free when he comes back around!”

When they’re gone, Jensen sinks into the heated bathwater. Sandy keeps a clean house and her girls take pride in their work. Jensen’s not the type to avail himself of those services—too busy running the saloon, is usually his excuse—and he feels strangely gratified to hear that Jared hasn’t either.

Then, in the hardware store, Jensen overhears Watson and Virgil talking about how Jared had gunned down a man three towns over.

“Padalecki just walked right up and shot him in the street!” Watson hisses.

“I heard the man had kidnapped a little girl, and Padalecki only winged him before letting the sheriff have him,” Virgil corrects in a hushed voice.

The name _Padalecki_ rings a few bells, like Jensen might have read about him in the newspaper once or twice. He takes what he hears and compares it to the man he’s gotten to know over the last few weeks. The stoic gunslinger who minds his own business until things get out of hand. Jensen likes having him around to ward off the bad element. These days, Carter and his pals pay their tab without harassing him, Ezra has been enticing more people to join his poker games and slipping Jensen money when he wins big, and business is steady.

Jensen spent every dime he had on the saloon, putting down stakes in what was once a much rougher town, and it’s finally paying off.

If he has an outlaw to thank for his recent string of luck, then so be it.

_________

  
Though he’s aware of Jared’s reputation, the reality of it doesn’t hit Jensen until nearly two weeks later on a cloudy afternoon. The town’s quiet, only a few folks milling about.

Jared is at a table with Ezra, winning a few bucks off the gambler who seems fairly amused by the turn of events. Jensen watches them out of the corner of his eye as he checks his stock behind the bar. He’s about to set aside the work and join them for a game or two when a crude shout from the street wrecks their peace.

“Padalecki! You murderin’ son of a bitch! I know you’re in there. I’m calling you out!”

Jensen’s blood runs cold and he freezes, unable to do anything but watch as Jared sighs, sets down his cards with a sharp look at Ezra, and slowly rises to his feet. Jared pulls one of his Colts and checks the cylinder before clicking it back into place.

“You’re going out there?” Jensen calls out in shock as Jared heads for the door, face impassive. Jensen has seen his share of gun battles in the street, ego versus ego, always leaving other people to clean up the mess.

Jared turns to look at him and shakes his head. “I got no choice. It’ll be worse if I don’t.”

As if to punctuate his statement, the gunman waiting outside starts to yell impatiently. “Get your ass out here, or I’m gonna start burning this town down one building at a time!”

“Jared—”

“I’ll be okay,” Jared says before Jensen’s nerves override his common sense and he says something he’ll later wish he hadn’t. “Stay in here, keep low in case any shots go wild.”

Jensen has no chance to process those instructions before the doors are swinging closed behind Jared, heavy footsteps on the wooden planks outside as he steps down into the street.

“Wade?” Even from a distance, Jensen can hear the scorn in Jared’s voice. “Never expected you to have the stones to try and bring me in.”

“That bounty on your head is awfully tempting.”

“Most people tell me I’m more trouble than I’m worth.”

Jensen rushes to the window as Ezra does the same on the opposite side of the door. Jared is already in the street, squared off against a man in a short brown coat and faded cavalry hat. Compared to Jared’s tall, lean figure in all black, Wade appears dingy and worn from whatever road brought him here.

“Alive or dead, doesn’t matter to me. One way or another, I’m taking you in.”

The man’s words don’t ruffle Jared at all. “Take your men and get out of here, Wade. I’m only warning you once. I won’t miss.”

Jensen knows it’s true; it’s the one thing the gossip and the newspapers all agreed on.

Wade brushes aside his coat and walks his fingers across the heel of his gun. In front of Jensen’s saloon, Jared does the same. Each move he makes is slow and deliberate, and Jensen can’t look away. He doesn’t want to watch—he’s seen enough bullet holes and knife wounds to last a thousand lifetimes—but this is Jared. 

Neither man gives ground. Rooted in place, Jensen looks on as the duel plays out in slow motion. Wade draws early—despicable piece of shit—but Jared is smarter and turns to the side. The shot passes him by a mile; Jared is calm when he raises his Colt and aims, hand steady when he fires.

Wade jerks back as the bullet hits his side. Three men rush towards him as he falls to his knees. Jensen can already see the blood seeping through his shirt as someone else tries to staunch the bleeding.

“There’s a doctor next town over,” Jared says tonelessly, keeping a wary eye on Wade’s companions in case they make any sudden moves. “Take him and go. I don’t want to see any of you in this town again.”

The entire spectacle is over in the span of a few minutes. Jared doesn’t lower his gun until Wade is up and being half-dragged, half-carried off the street. The crowd that had gathered for the unexpected afternoon entertainment disperses quickly. A few of the townsfolk eye Jared with mistrust, but the rest nod in approval as they walk away.

Jensen is experiencing a volatile mixture of relief and anger. His heart pounds in his chest, eyes fixed on Jared as he turns back to the saloon and catches Jensen watching from the window. His shoulders sag as the tension leaves his body.

Jensen hates that Jared went out there in the first place. That he risked his life (no matter what the odds were) as if it meant nothing. His turmoil must show on his face, because Jared hesitates with one foot on the step. Jensen can’t think of anything to say, anything that would explain the storm in his mind.

Before he can move or speak, Jared drops his chin and backs away. With one last look over his shoulder, he heads in the direction of the boarding house. Jensen stands at the window until Jared is long out of view, wondering if he’s just let something important slip through his fingers.

_________

  
Whether it comes down to the dark skies or the brief drama of the earlier gunfight, it’s a slow night in Jensen’s saloon. He’s twiddling his thumbs in an empty bar by eleven o’clock and thinking about closing early. He hasn’t seen hide nor hair of Jared since he walked away, and it’s not as if Jensen can stay open for one man.

Profits counted and the bar swept clean, Jensen’s about to head up to his rooms when he hears a show shuffle on the boardwalk outside. He groans, figuring it’s a drunk wandering over after being kicked out of Duke’s or Sandy’s. Moving towards the door with the words to send whoever it is on their way on the tip of his tongue, Jensen is shocked to see Jared stumbling through with his head bent low. His hat is missing and his hair is a tousled mess. Jensen has half a mind to tell him off when he takes in the full state of the man.

“What the hell?” he mutters as Jared looks up. There are numerous scrapes on his face and a purpling patch of skin on his left cheek. He’s holding himself awkwardly, not quite balanced, as if he’d been kicked by a mule in a delicate place. “What happened?”

“A couple of Wade’s pals came back,” Jared hisses in pain as he shifts towards the bar. Jensen steps forward cautiously in case he loses his footing. “Guess their boss didn’t make it to the doctor. Don’t worry, I sent ‘em running again.”

Jensen isn’t thinking in those terms. He’s more concerned with the way Jared is shuffling. “How bad is it?”

“They got in a few lucky hits,” he says, shaking his head and wincing. “I’m a little bruised, but I’ll be alright.” He sighs and his eyes meet Jensen’s. “I just didn’t know where else to go. If you want me to leave—”

It could be as easy as that; Jensen could let him walk away again. Out of his saloon and probably straight out of town. His long shadow would never darken Jensen’s doorstep again.

It’s not even a choice.

“Come on,” Jensen says, locking up quickly before slinging one arm around Jared’s shoulders to steady him. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

Through a door at the back of the saloon and up a narrow set of stairs are Jensen’s rooms. He spends most of his time working, but he’s got enough space up here for a real feather bed and his collection of books. Directing Jared to sit on the bed (and hiding a grin when he catches the man’s pleased hum at the unexpected softness), Jensen grabs a black bag from underneath his wash basin. Salves, ointments, and clean cloths, all ready to use. Not that Jensen ever thought he’d pull them out for a situation like this.

Working in silence, he cleans up Jared’s face as best he can with water from the basin before applying the salve to each scrape. Jared’s stare is an unsettling weight as Jensen goes through the familiar motions. So far, the injuries are minor, but he doesn’t know what’s hiding underneath those black clothes.

“Anywhere else?” he asks, holding up the salve.

“I don’t mean to be such a hassle,” Jared replies unhelpfully.

Jensen scowls, some of his frustration from earlier returning. “Stop being stubborn and you won’t be.”

Jared’s eyes are dark and stormy when he looks up at Jensen, his lips in a flat line. “You didn’t want me around earlier,” he eventually says, making Jensen pause before he turns to put the salve away.

With his back to Jared, Jensen sighs. “It was hard...watching you out there.” When he turns back around, Jared’s shoulders are slumped.

“I’ll never outrun my reputation,” Jared admits, his voice low. “There’ll always be men like Wade comin’ after me.”

“I didn’t…” Jensen shakes his head. “You think I’m cross because you shot the man who called you out?” He scoffs. “Wade’s been around these parts for years, scaring up bounties and spitting on the law, frightening good people.”

“I saw the way you looked at me.”

“I hated that you went out there thinking you meant nothing. Giving no thought to what would happen if your luck ran out. I could have lost you.”

Jared sucks in a breath. “You...Jensen, I—you can’t mean that. I’m trouble. Always have been.”

Once again, Jensen has no choice. He crosses back to stand in front of Jared, their knees bumping. “I like trouble.”

Quick as a shot, Jared’s got Jensen’s shirt fisted in his right hand. He uses that grip to yank Jensen down, their mouths meeting in a clash that leaves Jensen’s lip throbbing. 

The shock is nothing compared to the soaring feeling that rushes through him when Jared pulls him farther forward and the kiss takes on an entirely new shape. Jared’s mouth is smooth, cunning, demanding, and Jensen is swept away, unable to mount a response that goes beyond parting his lips and allowing it to deepen.

The next thing Jensen knows, both of Jared’s hands are at his waist, pulling up his shirt until it’s freed from his pants before grappling with the button.

His target is clear. Jensen whips his head away from the kiss. “Jared—”

“Don’t say another word unless you want me to stop,” Jared growls like a predator with an eye on his next meal. Jensen bites his tongue because there’s no way in hell he wants this to stop.

Jared is panting and cursing as he gets Jensen’s pants low enough to start working at the smaller buttons on his union suit. Fuck the fabric; Jensen wants him to tear the thing apart. As soon as his flesh is freed, Jared is leaning forward to suck gently at the exposed skin along Jensen’s hips, his lips tickling the sensitive area. Jensen would laugh if he was capable of anything beyond helplessly staring at this gorgeous, dangerous man who’s now so close to his aching cock that he can feel Jared’s breath.

Jared rubs his cheek against engorged flesh and Jensen’s knees almost give way. A few tugs in the dark with nameless partners are all he’s indulged in since he came to this town. The pleasure of another man’s mouth, warm and wet around his dick, is something he hasn’t enjoyed since before he moved west to put down roots. 

Either Jared possesses a wealth of prior experience or he’s just naturally gifted, because the heat and the pressure are intoxicating. He knows how to use his tongue, swirling it around the head of Jensen’s cock before slowly sliding his mouth down the length. Jensen is thick and hard, his blood thrumming. He keeps one hand close to his own mouth, biting his knuckles to keep from screaming out when Jared swallows around him. He sets his other hand on the back of Jared’s neck where he’s leaning over, stroking the soft skin that’s been protected from harsh sunlight by the brim of Jared’s hat.

Even without Jensen’s cries, the affair is wet and noisy. Jared’s cheeks hollow and stretch repeatedly around him as Jensen’s hips, guided by Jared’s two-handed grip on his ass, rock back and forth into the welcoming warmth.

Jared is trouble and temptation in one sinfully wrapped package, and Jensen would be a liar if he said he hasn’t wanted this since the first afternoon Jared walked into his saloon. He pictured bending Jared over the bar downstairs or inviting the gunslinger into his bed over and over throughout the last few weeks, and the reality eclipses even his filthiest fantasies. Jensen’s never felt like this about any of his partners: the need, the connection, the _desire_.

Jensen can’t stifle his moan when Jared wraps his right hand around the base of Jensen’s cock, stroking as he sucks. His face tilts up at the sound; his eyes are dancing with wildfire and his mouth is redder than a plucked cherry. Jensen wants to drag him up and kiss him, taste himself on those stretched lips, but he’s riding too close to the edge.

The sensation begins at the base of his spine and spreads like molasses on a sunny day. Hot and sweet until he’s filled with it, driving his cock into Jared’s mouth as he spills. Despite his marvelous skills, it’s more than Jared can handle, and he comes up sputtering with Jensen’s semen all over his lips. The sight is hotter than irons in the fire, and Jensen wants to brand this moment into his memory.

As soon as he stops shaking, Jensen falls forward and takes Jared with him onto the bed, finding his mouth and attacking it with the same fervor while trying to work around the scrapes and bruises. Jared’s massaging himself with one hand, and Jensen watches him fall into pleasure a moment later, gasping for breath with traces of seed Jensen hasn’t managed to lap up still on his face. Their clothes are a mess, the room humid and musky after their exertions, but Jensen has never felt more satisfied in his life.

“Told you I was trouble,” Jared says, his voice coming out as a rasp.

“The good kind,” Jensen answers, because whether Jared came to this town by providence or coincidence, he’s brought passion back into Jensen’s life. 

If it comes with more than a little frustration and a generous helping of danger...well, this is the untamed west, after all, and Jensen wouldn’t have it any other way.


End file.
